


In Case You Don't Know

by likeadeuce



Category: Alias (Comics), Marvel
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-15
Updated: 2010-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeadeuce/pseuds/likeadeuce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night after her first date with Scott Lang, Jessica still wasn't sure how she felt about him. But Carol was another story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Case You Don't Know

_I'll be your mirror  
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know  
Ill be the wind, the rain and the sunset  
The light on your door to show that you are home_

-The Velvet Underground

 

An hour after her first date with Scott Lang, Jessica still wasn't sure how it had gone.

She was completely sober, she was in a cab by herself. When they'd said good-bye, Scott had shaken Jessica's hand. By most standards -- certainly by Jessica standards -- this was not a successful date. She didn't have a buzz on, she wasn't getting laid. She hadn't gotten laid since -- well, since the cop upstate in Lago, and technically that had been less than a week ago. But it hadn't gone very well -- she suspected they hadn't, really, actually, finished before her powers went crazy and he apparently locked her in a jail cell -- and so it didn't count. And the last time she'd been laid before that was with Luke Cage, and that definitely hadn't gone well; or, rather, the actual laying had gone very well. Just the aftermath -- Carol calling him a cape chaser, and some random woman being behind his door at two A.M. when she had come to him for help, and the way he kept saying "_You_ fucked _me_," like the order of the words in that sentences had some kind of totemic significance, and. . .

Yeah. Okay. Possibly "a successful date by Jessica standards" was a concept that needed serious re-evaluation. Maybe coming away from a first date with a clear head and mutual respect and the possibility of something more actually _was_ a good outcome. She'd be able to think more clearly in the morning, when she was. . .wait, she was sober.

Maybe she should go home and get drunk. Maybe she should go out and get drunk. No, wait, she should go out and get drunk then go home and get laid.

Looking through the window at a streetscape that was only vaguely familiar, she said out loud, to herself, "Where _are_ we?"

"You told me to keep driving, lady. I'm driving. I don't mind the meter running as long as you can pay, but -- if this is some kind of investigative gig to see if Octopus Man or the Steel Spider is gonna attack us, you can get out now."

Jessica glared. "Steel Spider is a good guy now. And -- people do that?"

"I been driving cabs in this city for a long time."

Jessica wasn't sure which part of her comment he was answering, but she snapped, "I can get out. We're almost at my friend's house. Let me out." In the mirror she saw his eyebrows go up, but he pulled over. She dug in her purse, yanked out a wad of bills, and threw them at the driver. "Thank you," she said, like it was a swear word.

His eyes widened as he saw the money and he said sincerely, "Any time."

The car pulled away and she found herself staring at her open wallet, which contained three crisp one dollar bills. Perfect.

At least she was only a few blocks from Carol's.

All right, "a few blocks" was more like fifteen blocks, though she had to walk three in the wrong direction before she figured it out. It was fifteen blocks, and her shoes had four-inch heels, the kind that actual human beings couldn't be expected to walk in. That was Carol's fault, too, for the way she had looked at Jessica's feet last time they had lunch and pronounced the word "sensible."

Carol answered the door wearing an Air Force Academy T-shirt, plaid boxers with an Avengers logo on one leg, and no makeup.

"Nice outfit," Jessica said.

"Only for you, Jessica," Carol said through a tight smile.

"These shoes are terrible." Jessica's bare feet stepped past Carol and she threw one of the pumps so that it glanced off the end table. "_Sensible_ \--" she said, throwing the other shoe, "is _not_ a dirty word."

"I always thought you liked dirty words."

"Fuck you," Jessica said, conversationally.

"Oh, that's nice, Jessica. That's lovely. Only for you do I answer the door at midnight in these clothes and let you inside. Why? I don't know why. I hope you're here to tell me how it went with Scott tonight."

"That was tonight?!" Jessica smacked her hand to her forehead. "If I'd remembered that was tonight, I wouldn't have gone and gotten wasted at the male stripper club."

"Jessica!" Carol cried. It was mean to work her up like this, it really was. Mean, and more than a little fun. "You stood Scott up to go and see -- I don't believe -- you stand up my friend, you go and do whatever you want and show up here like this -- everything I try to do for you --"

Carol's voice broke, and suddenly it was quiet in the room and Jessica's joke wasn't funny. She stood still, in her bare feet, as Carol reached out, and down, to touch her face. She put a strong, long-fingered, sharp-nailed hand on Jessica's chin and tilted Jessica's face toward the light. "You show up here. Drunk --" Their eyes met and Jessica let a quick smile ghost onto her face.

Carol stopped, moved her head back, looked down at Jessica from her impressive height and said, "My God. Are you -- are you _sober_?"

"Yes." Jessica nodded gravely. "Yes, I am. Maybe you should send out an Avengers alert. Jessica Jones is sober on a Saturday night. The world might end, any minute."

"Well, then, why --" Carol frowned, and then her blue eyes widened. "You actually went out with Scott. I knew it! And you're sober!"

"That's right. I went out with Scott and I'm sober." Jessica's eyes narrowed. _Thank you, Carol, for reminding me what I was pissed off about in the first place. _ "Now, I wonder. What would you say those two facts have to do with each other?"

Carol turned toward the kitchen. "I'm going to make us some chamomile tea."

Jessica shot her arm out to block Carol's path. "You are not going to make us some chamomile tea. You are going to tell me what you think those two facts have to do with each other."

Carol looked down at Jessica's arm and gave a sigh. Carol was taller, and definitely stronger, but this situation wasn't going to get physical. The standard long-suffering sigh in the key of 'Jessica is impossible' was as far as she would need to reach into her arsenal. "I told him that the date would go badly if he let you drink."

"_Let_ me," Jessica repeated. She moved closer to Carol so that her arm made a bar across the other woman's stomach. "That's sweet, you know. That's fucking great. I'm ecstatic that my best fucking friend puts so little faith in my personal autonomy that she thinks I need _Ant-Man_ to _let me_ take a drink."

"I phrased that poorly." Carol backed away from Jessica's touch, hitting the hallway table with her elbow. A Kree-crystal vase shook, and she reached out to steady it. "I mentioned to Scott that the date might go better if he suggested that you not drink."

Jessica dropped her arm and gave her own version of the belabored sigh. At least Carol had confessed. "I can't believe you told him that."

"I can't believe it worked." Turning toward the kitchen, Carol pronounced "Tea," again, and somehow Jessica had no choice but to follow.

She perched on the kitchen counter, while Carol put two teabags into mugs of water and stuck them in the microwave. The height of Danvers domesticity -- not like Jessica had room to criticize. The microwave hummed, then beeped to fill in the silence that had descenced when neither of them knew exactly what to say to the other.

"So things actually went well with Scott," Carol said at last, handing her friend a NASA mug.

"Would I be here if it went well?." Jessica sipped experimentally at the tea. It didn't burn her tongue because Carol hadn't made it hot enough. Like she'd quit drinking alcohol and never figured out how to drink anything else properly. "It didn't go well. At the end of the night, he shook my _hand_."

"Scott always has been a gentleman." Carol laughed. "And a dork."

"Wow. Thanks a lot. You fixed me up with a dork."

"Oh, he's a _cute_ dork. Honestly! You didn't find him cute?"

"Sure. Absolutely. Blonde hair, dark eyes, nice hands. You know what this is like?" She held a finger up, signaling Carol to wait as she chugged the lukewarm tea, then slammed the mug on the counter. "This is just like Stevie Nicks."

"Stevie Nicks?"

"Right. For my birthday that one time, you gave me these ass-expensive tickets to see Stevie Nicks at Carnegie Hall." Jessica held up her hand and started to count on her fingers. "Let me finish. I don't particularly like Stevie Nicks. I don't particularly like going to concerts. I don't have anything to wear to Carnegie Hall, and -- I had just broken up with Clay again, so it brought home to me that I didn't have anybody to take but my mom -- and I don't even always particularly like my mom -"

"Oh, give me a break. I would have killed to go to that concert!"

"I knew it!" Jessica pointed accusingly at her. "You love Stevie Nicks!"

Carol spread her hands. "Yes, I admit. I'm a big fan. I didn't realize that was a crime."

"It's not." Jessica slid off the counter and started pacing the kitchen floor. "I mean, sometimes. The fact that she let Courtney Love cover 'Gold Dust Woman' ought to make anybody question -- but no, see -- we figured it out. Me and Scott. We were talking tonight and we deduced. This thing you do. It's just like the Stevie Nicks concert. Only - actually, it's worse. Because you really wanted to go to that concert. But when you decide to play yenta -- you look at people who you'd like to be dating yourself --"

Carol stiffened to her full height. "That's ridiculous."

"It's true!" Jessica jabbed a finger almost into Carol's shoulder.. "You take people -- you look at people who you just know you'd like to have for yourself. If not for just -- one little thing, a couple little things that aren't quite perfect. So you start scheming who else you can pawn them off on. And that's exactly what you're doing here. You're not actually giving any consideration to the preferences of the people involved -- "

"Jessica, that's just --" Carol stepped back, and her hand shook a little as she started running a hand through her hair. "After all the time we've known each other, I can't believe you're saying this."

"It's true! You do it all the time." Carol's reaction only egged her on. Her friend wasn't very easy to rattle -- wasn't easy for Jessica to rattle, anyway -- but based on the reaction, Jessica's deduction must have struck a nerve. "You've been setting me up on dates for years, Carol. All this time, you've been doing the same thing."

"I haven't!" Carol whirled on her. "I just -- Jessica, the things I've done for you. Everything I've tried to do. The way I've been a friend to you ever since --" Her voice caught, there; they were arguing, but not enough for Carol to go near _that_ subject "--ever since the beginning. I just -- you -- we -- for you to imply that it's all because I secretly want to sleep with you!"

"Oh come on, it's exactly that. It's exactly what you do all the time, what you've always done -- Wait, what?" She gave a sharp laugh. "Oh, jeez, come on. I meant Scott. I meant you want to sleep with Scott." She stopped. Carol was looking down, looking away. Jessica had thought she was clearing up a comical misunderstanding, but instead of seeming relieved, Carol seemed -- not relieved.

"Carol?" Jessica stepped closer and moved around to try and look her in the eyes. She reached up to touch her friend's wrist, guiding it down so she could look in Carol's eyes.

"Do you want to sleep with me? Because -- the more that I think about it, the more sense it makes. All these years of Jessica Improvement Projects. My job, my education, those stupid shoes. I just always assumed it was a patch up job -- you were trying to get me just good enough, just passable that you could pawn me off on one of the guys who didn't quite measure up to your standards. But now I wonder -- was it a renovation?" Jessica felt herself flashing a playful smile. She was flirting. Flirting with Carol. "When the project was done," she asked. "Were you hoping to move in yourself?"

"Don't make fun," Carol said sharply, then swallowed before she spoke again. "This would have to come up tonight of all nights."

Jessica's tongue darted out, and ran around her lips. "Because I'm sober and you don't have a chance to take advantage of me?"

"Because you're sober and you'll _remember_ this conversation," Carol snapped back. She shook her head, and stepped away. "It's just a silly thing."

"Hey!" Jessica felt oddly wounded to hear Carol dismiss feelings that she had never suspected of existing. After many years of wondering how much of Carol's friendship was charity, or misplaced guilt -- or properly placed guilt -- that the notion some of it could have been attraction, actually -- "You don't have to call it silly."

"It's just that I look at you sometimes. I see how you live your life, I see the things that you do to yourself --"

"And it makes you hot and bothered?" Jessica was still willing for this to be a joke, if Carol would let the conversation turned that way.".

"It makes me think that you're beautiful," Carol grabbed Jessica by both shoulders and pulled her forward. She sounded angry, and Jessica had never heard anyone use the word 'beautiful' like that. "You're too goddamn beautiful to go through life not knowing what you're doing."

Jessica thought that Carol must have meant something else, she must have said 'beautiful' because she couldn't think of a word for what she meant. "I know what I'm doing tonight," Jessica said, and at that moment it was true. She knew what she was doing, she just didn't know the words for it, anymore than Carol did, so she leaned forward and up, and kissed Carol on the mouth.

Carol kissed her back with surprising force (but why surprising? She was Ms. Marvel, Carol Danvers, the Warbird). Her hands moved on Jessica's face. "Jesus Christ, Jessica Jones. You infuriating little --" The words got lost in a laugh, and then Jessica's back slammed against the refrigerator.

"Carol," Jessica's voice came out, and it was half laughter, too, because what were they doing and -- "Dammit, Carol, let me get you out of this stupid shirt --"

"My stupid shirt? You have a stupid shirt." She fingered Jessica's collar. "I can't believe you wore this threadbare turtleneck on a fucking date --" But Carol raised her arms, and she pulled away from kissing Jessica's face long enough for Jessica to yank the shirt over her head.

Jessica laughed again, confronted by Carol's round, heavy breasts. "Are those things real?"

"Screw you, Jones --"

"Not complaining!" Jessica bent her knees and slid down, back still against the fridge. She reached out to cup Carol's right breast, and moved it toward her mouth.

"No -- Jessica --" Jessica ignored Carol and slid her lips forward, feeling the hard bump of nipple against the tip of her tongue. "Jessica!" It was half a protest, half a cry of pleasure, and Carol let her go on for a moment. "Not --" She pulled back. "Not now. Not yet. Get out of your ugly clothes."

Jessica froze in place, letting Carol pull back from her, then yank the turtleneck over her head. Carol's hands were fast, her fingers were long. They worked on Jessica's bra -- "God, woman, is this a safety pin? You wore a safety pin on a date with a man I fixed you up with --?"

Before Jessica could answer -- which was good, because she didn't have an answer -- Carol's mouth pressed against her, swift and suddenly confident. Jessica leaned her head back as Carol's palm spread over her stomach, and fingers slipped past her waistline, under the silk of her bikini shorts. "I wore nice underwear," she said, helping Carol by pulling them, and her pants, as far down as her knees. "I always remember nice underwear --" Carol's fingers danced over her indifferently trimmed pubic hair. "I kind of forgot to take care of that, though. I was supposed to go home first, was the thing, but then I got stuck at Matt Murdock's office and --"

"My God." Carol's hand stopped and she moved her head back to look Jessica in the eye. "Do you talk this much with men?"

"Really, really not." Jessica said. "Maybe it's the lack of liquor talking?"

"Maybe the liquor generally has the right idea."

"Are you telling me to shut up?"

"Not by a long shot, honey." With no more warning, she thrust a finger -- more like two fingers, maybe three fingers -- inside of Jessica, who let out a sharp cry.

"You bitch," she gasped. "You bitch, you --" Jessica's chin leaned forward to rest on Carol's shoulder. "You have fingernails, you bitch. You have claws." Carol's hand was still for a moment, and Jessica put more weight against her massive shoulders. "Don't stop, you crazy claw-having bitch. Don't you dare stop."

"Shut up _now_," Carol ordered, and pushed her fingers further inside. They moved against the barriers of Jessica's body, and Jessica obliged with mixed moans of pain and pleasure. She loved Carol's strength right now, loved the way the tall, majestic woman was fucking her, because that was what it was. Drunk Jessica had been with women before, had been indifferently lapped at by other bored party girls, usually because a man was watching. But she hadn't fully comprehended that a woman could fuck her this completely, hadn't been ready for the spasms in her feet and fingers and her belly as she came.

"I - I - I -" She looked at Carol's wide blue eyes as the fingers slid out of her. "Can I be your body slave now? Isn't that, like, a Kree warrior custom?"

"Not necessary, warrior girl," Carol smiled. "Just --" Running her hand along Jessica's shoulder ". . . on your knees is fine."

Carol backed against the counter now, dropping her boxer shorts and thong with one motion. Jessica yanked the pants all the way off of her body, shoving them toward the increasing pile of discarded clothes, and slid her knees across the cold linoleum. Carol wrapped a hand in Jessica's hair, and guided her mouth where it needed to go. "Try talking now," she said.

Jessica obliged but, unsurprisingly, her "Screw you, Carol," didn't come out as much of anything.

The rest of it was easy, motions she vaguely remembered from Drunk Jessica. She flicked her tongue against Carol's clit, then, encouraged by the other woman's groans and urged on by the force of the large hand on the back of her neck, she pushed her mouth more deeply onto the warm, welcoming sex.

*

"Are you going to spend the night?" Carol asked.

Jessica tried an innocent smile. "I don't really have money for a cab. It's sort of a funny story."

"Well, if I had known you were staying the night, we could have done this in a bed." And it was back, the special sigh that she reserved just for Jessica.

"I can sleep on the couch."

"Don't be stupid." She leaned down to pick one of the shirts off the floor, gave it a distasteful look which signaled it was Jessica's, and said, "Come to bed. I don't bite. And Jessica? Promise me you'll call Scott."


End file.
